Chapter Thirty-Five - Stuck
Sheriff Owens barked at Pete.
“Well, let’s get to it.”
The deputy stripped his holster and gun.
Jacket gone.
Cigarettes tossed.
Sheriff Owens did the same.
He stood back from the pool,
took one end of the rope,
handed it to Pete.
“Let me know if it’s cold.”
The sheriff grinned.
Pete stepped into the pool.
Dropped straight down.
“This pond’s bottomless!”
He panted, treading water,
reached for the rope.
“Come on in, Sheriff.”
Owens glanced at us.
“You girls swim?”
We nodded.
He looked at Mama, then me.
“Alright, Lizzy. You’ve been through enough.
Cold water will finish you.”
He pointed at his pistol.
“Do you know how to use it?”
“Yes. Mama taught me.”
“Pick it up.
Stand at the edge.
Keep it pointed at the crook.
Don’t fire unless I say.
Got it? He needs to see you holding it.”
His eyes locked on mine.
He knew I was mad.
The crook was mine.
Not his.
Not Pete’s.
Not Mama’s.
“Lizzy, if he sees that gun,
he’ll think his life’s over.
He’ll behave.”
Mama whispered, “He’s right.”
I nodded.
Sheriff pulled out some rope,
handed a loop to Mama,
took one for himself.
“Pete, tie his legs.
Ellen and I will tug when you’re ready.
We’ll pull from different angles.
Put muscle into it.
He’ll slide out.”
Pete swam to the shelf,
hauled himself up,
cinched the crook’s feet tight.
Saluted.
Sheriff growled.
Mama braced.
Pete yanked.
The body shifted.
Barely.
“He can breathe now,” Pete barked.
“Then drag him out before he wakes.
His head’s addled,” Owens thundered.
I searched for footing.
Nothing.
Gun heavy in my hands.
I held a gun.
He didn’t.
Cold sweat slicked me.
I cursed myself.
Left him that rope
when I booted him off the overhang.
Left his gun in the brush,
but should have found it and grabbed it.
Sheriff roared.
“Ready? PULL!”
They hauled.
A boot tore free.
“Pete, strip the other boot.
Tie his bare feet.”
Pete ripped it off,
knots tight,
saluted again.
Then HIS voice.
Screaming.
Kicking.
Feet bound.
They hauled.
He popped free.
Like a cork.
Splashed into the pool.
Thrashing.
“Help! I can’t swim!
That girl’s trying to kill me!”
His eyes locked on the gun.
Locked on me.
Sheriff and Pete dragged him to shore,
dumped him at my feet.
Mama trussed him like a hog.
Hands cuffed.
Feet hobbled.
He glared.
Cussed.
I smiled.
He was mine.
“Lizzy.”
Sheriff. Mama. Same tone.
“We have him now.”
Mama soothed.
“I’ll take the gun.”
Owens reached.
The pistol slipped from my palm.
Relief flickered in his eyes.
Smirk on the crook's lips.
I glared at him…
“He’s got a death wish.”
I flinched.
Mind numb.
Adrenaline fading.
I needed rest.
Now.
Twenty feet down the tunnel
he bolted.
In spite of bare feet.
In spite of being hobbled by Mama’s knots.
Pete lunged,
flattened him,
threw rope around his waist,
hauled him upright,
let out slack,
handed it to me.
“Here, Lizzy.
You’ve earned this.”
It was too much.
Tears flooded my face.
I’d spent a day
leashed to this animal.
Dragged him up and down hillsides,
rope cinched at my waist.
Dragged through brush,
trees thicker than porcupine quills.
Every yank pulled me back,
rope biting ribs,
crunching bone.
My body ached to jerk that rope
hard enough to drop him,
crack his skull.
Mama’s hand covered mine.
She took the rope.
She took the pain.
Her hand soft.
“Lizzy, slow breath in.
Slow breath out.
Sheriff, she’s about to collapse.”
Light splashed my face.
I shielded my eyes.
“Lizzy, can you walk
to the main cavern?”
I needed to sit.
Needed Bobby.
Didn’t know if he was alive.
“Mama, is Bobby okay?”
My voice weak,
tired, desperate.
“I believe he’s okay.
The other deputy took him,
Billy, Oralee to the hospital.
We stayed to drag this spawn of Satan
out of the pit he belongs in.”
She spat, rage and love
in one breath.
I loved that about her.
Her ability to hold both.
No wonder she retreated to silence
when things went wrong.
“Let’s get going.”
Pete hustled us down the tunnel.
At the cave, Daddy waited.
Arms crossed over bibbed overalls.
One look at me.
One look at Mama.
He melted into tears.
First time in my memory
he couldn’t speak.
Harry teared up too.
Then turned on the crook.
“Where’s the bus key…”
Cuss words spilled.
The crook motioned to his pocket.
Harry snatched it, panting.
“You realize these kids
are on the verge of hypothermia?
Exposure?
How could you pull this crap?
They’re just kids!”
He cussed again,
stormed off to start the bus.
I cheered inside.
Wanted to cuss too.
But I knew better.
A preacher’s daughter’s curse
turns admiration to disgust.
Mama’s silence
would be mine.
So I didn’t cuss.
I let them put me
in Sheriff Owens’ car.
The mountain air froze me.
My body shook.
Teeth chattered.
Muscles wound tight.
Clothes drenched,
hair stuck to skin.
I shook harder.
“Wrap her up.
Break the speed limit.
Get her to the hospital.”
Mama wrapped me
in every cloth she found.
Sat beside me.
Rubbed my hands.
Pat my face.
Held me.
I cried.
I had to nearly die
to get her to do that.
I’d prayed for it.
Longed for it.
I shouldn’t have had to almost die.
“Lizzy.” Oralee in my head.
“Your mom has always loved you.
She’s slow to show it.
I’ll show you her letters
she sent me over the years.
You’ll see how proud she is.”
Pete cranked the heat.
Turned on the radio.
Static hissed.
A voice cut through.
“Three children and one young woman
found this morning
in the clutches of escaped convict
Larry Bartlet.
"Two children rushed to the hospital,
severe injuries, extreme exposure.
The third child still missing
with Bartlet.
Search parties sweeping Mount Thompson.
Sheriff Owens and his deputy
have set up a wide search.
More news as it comes in.”
We were famous.
Never wanted fame.
School would be hard now.
So would church.
I imagined Sister Cartwright.
Hands wringing.
Bobby’s arm infected.
Me half‑dead.
She’d be frantic.
I didn’t want that either.
I slid down in the seat.
Cried and cried.
Mama cried too.
Pete sniffed,
wiped his eyes.
Glanced at me in the mirror.
Thumbs up.
The car growled on.
Farm road bumps slowed us.
Outside, the mama deer.
Her three babies,
almost grown.
I prayed no one shot them
during hunting season.
Daddy never allowed it.
Said there was no need
when everyone raised beef.
He patrolled the farm
day and night during hunting season.
Mama sometimes took her shotgun
at three in the morning,
stood guard over the upper pasture.
Elk grazed there.
Her pride.
Her joy.
Heaven help anyone
foolish enough to bother them.
I faded.
Like the sun going down.
By the time we reached Mama’s house
I was under.
I barely heard her say,
“Stop at the house.
Hot water bottle.
She’s hypothermic.”
I barely heard Major
barking at my window.
Major.
Major!
I dragged myself up,
fought the window crank,
cried when I was too weak
to turn it.
Pete saw me struggle,
opened his door,
ready to help.
Mama slammed back into the car,
plopped a hot water bottle
on my chest.
“Let’s go. Hurry!”
“Mama! Major!”
My heart broke.
Major barked, cried,
ran alongside the car
as Pete raced down the drive.
His frantic face bounced into view.
Then gone.
We headed for Brownsville Hospital.
“Mama. Bring Major
when you visit me.
You’ll visit this time,
won’t you?”
My voice wavered.
I melted back
into the girl who ran away.
Mama stroked my forehead.
“Yes, Lizzy. I’ll be by your side.
Every second.
And I’ll bring Major to the window.”
The window.
Not the window again.
That’s where it started.
The criminal saw it open,
glared in,
the nurse shooed everyone out.
But Mama would bring Major.
I fell into stupor.
Hospital lights crashed into my face.
Nurses and a doctor
slid me onto a gurney,
rolled me to a warm bed.
Shivering out of control.
Mind spinning loose.
Mama stuck to me like glue.
Even when they told her to leave.
I managed a smile.
They didn’t know my Mama.
She glared them down
like she glared down the crook.
They nodded.
Let her stay.
I woke groggy.
Muscles ached.
Bones ached.
Head pounded so hard
tears filled my eyes.
Darkness pressed the room,
pressed the valley.
“Where am I?”
My voice croaked.
No strength left.
“You’re in the hospital,”
Mama said,
stepping to the bed.
“You’ve been asleep
a long time.”
I reached for her hand.
It wasn’t there.
She wasn’t there.
Mama didn’t stay.
She said she would.
A single tear
rolled down my cheek.
She examined the patch
on my hurt eye.
Felt my fingers.
Felt my toes.
Nurse Rachel smiled.
“You’re warming up.
That’s good.
You’ll be alright.”
Mama’s voice in my head.
“I’ve been praying for you.
For Billy. For Bobby.
For Oralee too.”
Oralee?
I couldn’t make my mind
go back to the cave.
Couldn’t go back to the pool
where the crook screamed
I tried to kill him.
None of it.
Mama noticed.
She said, “Don’t worry.
Doc says your concussion
did you no favors.
Being out in the woods
made it worse.
But he says you’re past the worst.
You’ve turned the corner.
You’ll be home before you know it.”
Nurse Rachel patted my cheek.
Soft hands.
Or was it Mama?
Patting my cheek?
I opened my eyes.
I’d been dreaming.
But I knew Mama had been there.
I’d heard her voice.
Nurse Rachel breezed in.
“How’s my favorite girl?”
“Was Mama just here?”
“No, she’s down the hall
getting Billy checked out.
He gets to go home today.”
Her smile melted me.
Her words eased my fear.
Mama hadn’t abandoned me.
“I understand she’s bringing
your dog Major to visit
through your window.”
She smiled wide.
“I hear he’s quite the dog.”
My voice barely worked.
“He’s the best in the world.”
She took my temperature.
Didn’t smile.
Didn’t frown.
“The doctor will visit you soon, Lizzy.
Get a little more sleep. Okay?”
The thought of Major
coming to see me
settled me.
I dropped off into a dream.
Major chasing crooks in circles.
Nipping at their heels.
Driving them mad.
My ridiculous dream.
Another dream.
Bobby, smiling,
reaching for my hand.
The way he’d held it in the car.
The way he’d pulled Billy up from
the waterfall.
The way he’d grabbed it
and pulled me up from the
crashed car…